charged across the street. He slammed into Brother Barnaby and they both went down. Dag shielded the monk with his body as a green fireball exploded in the air above them. Dag could feel the heat radiate through his armor.
He scrambled quickly to his feet. Brother Barnaby was dazed, probably wondering what had hit him. Dag seized hold of the monk by the collar of his habit and dragged him into the shadows of a building, hoping without much hope that they were out of range of the swivel gun. Once there, Dag let loose of the monk and took the opportunity to reload the musket.
“You all right, Brother?”
Brother Barnaby was bleeding from a gash where his head had hit the stones. He winced when he tried to stand. His body would be one massive bruise tomorrow. If they lived that long.
Barnaby nodded and said shakily, “I have to go to Father Jacob.”
Glancing up at the roof, Dag saw the two demons huddled over the swivel gun. They should again have fired by now. Perhaps there was something wrong with it. Nice to know Hell was fallible.
“Go, Brother, if you must! Be quick. I’ll keep you covered.”
Barnaby ran to Father Jacob while Dag kept an eye on the demons. He was cheered to see the priest lift his head at the sound of the monk’s voice. Brother Barnaby put his arm around Father Jacob and helped him to stand. Both came running back to the building where Dag was standing with his musket, watching the demons.
“How is Sir Ander?” Father Jacob asked.
“I don’t know,” said Dag. “I thought I saw him move-”
“I’ll go to him,” said Brother Barnaby.
“Wait!” Dag grabbed hold of Brother Barnaby’s arm.
The swivel gun was still on the roof, but the two demons were not.
“Maybe they’ve run off,” said Brother Barnaby hopefully, eager to go to Sir Ander.
Dag grunted and kept fast hold of the monk.
It was well he did. Four demons emerged from the side street next to the warehouse. All four were armed, each of them carrying the hellish green-fire cannons they’d used to attack the Cloud Hopper. They walked purposefully toward the little group huddled by the building.
Dag had one shot with his musket, one shot each with the two pistols in his belt. He would not have time to reload and that left him one demon short. Dag eyed Sir Ander. The knight lay in the street; his dragon pistol-the match of Stephano’s pistol-near his hand.
“Father Jacob, is Sir Ander’s gun loaded?” Dag asked. “Did he fire it before he was attacked?”
Father Jacob thought a moment, then shook his head. “I wish I could tell you for certain. I don’t think he did, but I can’t remember.”
If the pistol was loaded, that gave Dag his fourth shot. If it wasn’t…
“Guess I’ll find out,” Dag muttered philosophically.
He rose to a kneeling position, fired the musket, dropped it, ducked his head, ran in a crouch to the fallen knight and snatched up the dragon pistol. Dag rose and pulled the trigger. Flame flashed, the pistol fired. Dag thanked God and threw it down. He drew the first of his two pistols with his left hand, flipped the gun from his left hand to his right, raised it, and fired.
He had one more shot, one more pistol left. All this time, he’d been thinking only of firing. He had no idea if he’d hit anything or not. He hadn’t dared take the time to look. What he did know was that, inexplicably, none of the demons were shooting at him.
Dag dropped to his belly, grunting as the metal breastplate dug into his ribs. Two of the demons were down; he didn’t know for how long. The other two stood with their weapons in their hands, but they weren’t looking at him. Their hideous faces were turned away; they were staring at something off to their left. One pointed. The other started to walk in that direction.
“Gythe!” Brother Barnaby cried.
Dag could see Gythe crouched on the door stoop, her arms covering her head. The demon was heading straight for her.
“I’ll go to her,” said Father Jacob. “Cover me!”
“Father, no-” Dag began, but before he could finish, the priest was running across the street.
“Son of a bitch!” Dag swore and raised the pistol, not wanting to fire unless he was certain he had a shot. After this, his only weapon was his knife.
The lane was thick with smoke. Dag could barely see the priest, and he was hoping the demon would have the same trouble. But apparently the fiends could see, for a demon was tracking Father Jacob with his gun. Dag shouted and yelled and stood up. Seeing the threat, the demon shifted his aim.
Dag dropped to the ground again and buried his head in his arms. Green fire swept over him, searing his legs and buttocks and burning through the leather coat he wore beneath the breastplate. The green fire enveloped his pistol, heating the metal, burning his hand, forcing him to drop the weapon. He picked it up, and was dimly aware of Brother Barnaby kneeling beside him, beating on him frantically, trying to put out the flames. Dag lifted his head.
“Stop hitting me, Brother!” Dag roared.
“But you’re on fire!” Barnaby gasped.
“Never mind! You’re throwing off my aim!”
Brother Barnaby drew back. Dag pulled the trigger. To his horror, green fire raced down the length of the muzzle toward his hand, like fire racing along the length of a fuse attached to a barrel of gunpowder. He flung the pistol away just as the gun exploded. A split second more and the blast would have taken off his hand.
The demon who had fired at Dag was reloading. The other demon was still going after Gythe. Dag reached his hand into his boot for his last weapon-his knife. He could feel the pain of his burns now, and he grimaced and stifled a groan as he pushed himself up off the charred cobblestones. He had no idea if his knife would penetrate the fiendish armor. He took aim with the knife when a large chunk of stone coming from behind him struck the demon, knocking the cannon from his hands. Another rock hit the demon in the head, sending him reeling backward.
Dag looked back to see Brother Barnaby picking up broken chunks of cobblestone and hurling the chunks in rapid fire succession, one after the other, at the demons. Dag watched in admiration. Brother Barnaby was a good shot. The monk kept up the barrage, and the demon could do nothing except try to keep his feet.
Father Jacob had by this time reached the demon closing in on Gythe. Coming up from behind, Father Jacob grabbed hold of the fiend by the shoulder, wrenched the demon around and slammed his fist into the demon’s jaw. The demon went down in a heap. Father Jacob ran to Gythe, who was huddled in the doorway, her arms over her head. He took hold of her, soothing her.
“Dag!” Stephano’s battlefield bellow reverberated through the smoke and darkness.
Dag grinned widely, relief flooding through him.
“Here I am, Captain! I’m still standing!” Dag shouted.
Stephano emerged from the smoke. He aimed his pistol at the demon who was the target of Brother Barnaby’s assault.
“Brother Barnaby!” Dag yelled. “Fall back!”
Barnaby scrambled to get out of the way. Stephano fired, and the demon flopped about and fell to the street, a hole in its chest. Miri was with Gythe and Father Jacob. Rodrigo stood protectively over them, holding a lantern in one hand. His other hand was glowing; presumably he was going to cast some sort of magical spell. Dag hoped Rigo handled his magic better than he handled a gun, and then he had other things to worry about. He caught sight of orange eyes on the roof of the warehouse. The demon was back, training the swivel gun at them.
“Take cover!” Dag yelled, and once more he hugged the pavement.
Stephano dropped to the ground. Brother Barnaby flung himself on top of Sir Ander. Father Jacob shielded Gythe. Miri grabbed hold of Rodrigo, who was standing in the open, staring at the gun with his mouth open. She dragged him down. The gun went off with a shattering boom that shook the buildings. Dag smelled the stench of burning flesh and he looked about in terror, fearing his friends had been caught in the blast.
He stared in shock. The demon hadn’t been aiming at them. The green fireball had struck the bodies of the four demons. The heat of the blazing corpses was so fierce Dag had to avert his face. He was astonished to catch a glimpse of the priest running past him, heading toward the flames.
Father Jacob spoke what sounded like gibberish and made a circle with his hand, opening a hole in the flames, like one opened a door into a room. He reached his hand into the fire to seize hold of something. The object
